


this summer's gonna hurt

by ellipted (savagecrowns)



Series: this summer's gonna hurt (like a motherfucker) [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, sexual encounter while unknowingly under the influence of drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 10:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4388483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savagecrowns/pseuds/ellipted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Happy Birthday, Kusoikawa.” The music is so loud that he has to read Iwaizumi’s lips. It’s obvious, though. He smiles so brightly that his dimples come out. They knock back their shots—and then they do another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this summer's gonna hurt

**Author's Note:**

> ehhh so this is day 1 of iwaoi week + july - oikawa's birthday
> 
> this entire series ain't gon be happy y'all--just warning you

The club is hot and crowded. The music is too loud and the air stinks like pot—but the way the bodies move around him is contagious. 

“Iwa-chan~!” Oikawa gasps. He pulls on Iwaizumi’s bicep, toward the bar at the opposite wall. They order shots and hold them up to cheers. 

“Happy Birthday, Kusoikawa.” The music is so loud that he has to read Iwaizumi’s lips. It’s obvious, though. He smiles so brightly that his dimples come out. They knock back their shots—and then they do another.

Oikawa drapes himself over Iwaizumi, shaking him slightly. “Iwa-chan, let’s da~nce!” He takes Iwaizumi’s arm and leads him into the throng. Oikawa rocks his hips back and forth, seamlessly blending into the crowd. Iwaizumi is immediately accosted by a girl who grinds her ass against his groin. He rolls his hips, and Oikawa’s lips part because Iwaizumi is the personification of sin on the dance floor. The way his torso follows what his hips start must be illegal. Who needs porn when you have Iwaizumi Hajime?

Iwaizumi hooks a lazy arm over her shoulder and they roll their hips together. Oikawa gnaws at his bottom lip because _damn_. They look good, and Oikawa can admit that—but the sight of them leaves a rancourous taste in his mouth. He is familiar with Iwaizumi’s body—but not like that. Iwaizumi had never held _his_ hips like that, had never traced _his_ ear with his lips. 

Oikawa is so distracted by Iwaizumi that he forgets he’s supposed to be dancing, until a girl with a spiky blonde pixie cut dances under his arms and pushes herself against him, squeezing his ass indulgently. The line between his eyebrows smoothes out in shock, and he grins down at her. She winks at him and turns around, swinging her hips against him. He rests one hand at her waist and they rock together for a while, enjoying the delicious friction. Anything to take his mind off the unwelcome sight in front of him.

When she suddenly breaks away from him, Oikawa nearly loses his balance. She doesn’t wander far though—just turns around and kisses him. Her lips are parted right away and she forces her tongue into his mouth. He coughs, and he thinks he swallows her gum. The kiss doesn’t last long, but he’s glad for it. She turns away from him—to Iwaizumi. She kisses him too, and then the girl grinding against him. Oikawa just watches them struggle, stumbling from surprise, partly amused but mostly confused. 

She goes back to Iwaizumi after kissing the girl, tugging his face down to her level and raking her nails down his arms—like she owns him. Like she can do whatever she wants with him. Oikawa’s amusement morphs into resentment. Dancing with him or kissing him is one thing, but how dare she feel up his Iwa-chan like that—like he was just a piece of ass? 

He starts forward, intending to break them up somehow—anyhow—but she’s _climbing_ him. Her legs are hooked around his waist, and he’s supporting her under her thighs. Even four shots in—the bastard doesn’t even flinch under her weight. 

Oikawa wavers, unsure whether he should proceed or not. If Iwaizumi is enjoying himself then he shouldn’t interrupt—who is he kidding? Oikawa is a selfish, possessive brat and he knows it. Iwa-chan is _his_. Oikawa reaches for them but pauses midway because Iwaizumi is staring at him while his mouth moves against her lips. Oikawa’s eyes widen and his lips part because Iwaizumi’s eyes are heavy and dark and his mouth is moving really slowly and Oikawa _wants some of that._

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa breathes. His thoughts are becoming hazy now, but he doesn’t think he’d had that much vodka. That Iwa-chan’s attention is elsewhere than himself is suddenly the gravest offence he’s ever committed, and Oikawa drapes himself over Iwaizumi from the back, hooking his arm around his neck. His lips find the shell of Iwaizumi’s ear, and he licks it, nibbles it. It tastes vaguely salty—it tastes amazing. Oikawa is desperate for more. He licks behind Iwaizumi’s ear, down his neck, sucks a dark hickey into his tanned skin. “Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi turns around—the girl is no longer in his arms—and pulls Oikawa against him roughly. His fingers are digging into the flesh of Oikawa’s hips and Oikawa’s heart beats harder when he thinks of the bruises he’s sure to have in the morning. He wants more bruises from Iwa-chan. He wants more proof that Iwa-chan’s hands had held him. Iwaizumi roughly forces Oikawa’s legs apart, bending his knee to rub against him. Oikawa’s legs nearly buckle, but Iwaizumi is holding him tightly. One hand wanders away from his hip to cup the back of his thigh, just under the curve of his ass. Oikawa moans breathlessly, lips parted prettily. His hips are grinding against Iwaizumi’s, desperate for some release. 

Except for his rough prodding hands, Iwaizumi is like a statue. His fingers dig into the tender flesh of his thigh, his ass, kneading. Oikawa leans forward and licks the tantalizing drop of sweat off of Iwaizumi’s jaw. Iwaizumi lifts his jaw up and Oikawa sucks at his neck hungrily. 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa moans, and his lips tingle from the vibration. 

Iwaizumi tilts Oikawa’s jaw up and crushes his lips under his mouth, biting and sucking at Oikawa’s bottom lip roughly. It’s rougher than any kiss he’s ever had before, and Oikawa _relishes_ it.

It’s not close enough, though. Oikawa’s fingers find the collar of Iwaizumi’s shirt and he pulls on it until the buttons pop out of their holes. He runs his hands down the hard muscles of his chest, reaches around to his back, rakes his nails indulgently from his shoulders to his ribs. Iwaizumi arches his back deliciously in response, and Oikawa’s jeans tighten uncomfortably. 

Iwaizumi’s face is flushed and he’s breathing through his mouth. His lips are wet and swollen and a little bit bruised, because Oikawa doesn’t hold back. But he’s sure his mouth looks worse—because if Oikawa doesn’t hold back, then Iwaizumi attacks viciously. 

It’s still not enough, though. Oikawa doesn’t just want to taste Iwaizumi, he wants to devour him. Iwa-chan is his. Oikawa kisses him again, and when he pulls away it is only to kiss his way down Iwaizumi’s neck, his chest, his stomach until Oikawa is crouched on the floor in front of him. He opens his mouth in anticipation, glances up at Iwaizumi.

His eyes are black in the dim light of the club. He cards his fingers through Oikawa’s hair, and that is as much encouragement as Oikawa needs. He opens his mouth and leans forward, taking the bulge into his mouth. Iwaizumi rocks his hips forward roughly, and Oikawa looks up at him shamelessly as he gently bites him through the fabric of his jeans, just enough pressure to feel it, and rakes his teeth as he pulls away. Iwaizumi grimaces, but he doesn’t let go of Oikawa’s hair and he doesn’t let him stay away for long. He pulls against the back of Oikawa’s head, guiding his mouth back against him. Oikawa obliges eagerly. He unbuttons Iwaizumi’s jeans and pulls down the zipper and mouths him though his boxers, wet with precome and Oikawa’s saliva. He licks along the length of it, and when he reaches his coarse curls he looks up. Iwaizumi’s expression is unfazed, only focused, like he’s about to serve a volleyball. His mouth is open though, slightly. 

Oikawa pouts, moans frustratedly, and Iwaizumi’s hips buck at the vibration. He lifts the back of his hand to his face, against his mouth, and Oikawa grins triumphantly. He tugs down his boxers and takes the head into his mouth, satisfied with the reaction he got. Iwaizumi bucks again, so Oikawa holds his hips, digging his blunt fingernails into his skin.

He licks, sucks Iwaizumi until he feels Iwaizumi’s other hand rest on his shoulder to steady himself, finally wavering on his feet. He lets go of Iwaizumi with a strong suction at the tip that he’s rather proud of, and meets his eyes.

The damn asshole lifts an eyebrow, _aren’t you gonna finish me off?_

Oikawa puffs one cheek out, pouting dramatically. 

Annoyed, he sucks hard on the tip of Iwaizumi’s length, pumping the rest of it with one hand. Iwaizumi clenches Oikawa’s shoulder, tries to push him away, but Oikawa only sucks harder. Iwa-chan’s cock is heavy in his mouth, and so _thick_. As he bobs his head he imagines what it would feel like between his thighs. Iwa-chan is strong, and it wouldn’t take long to reduce Oikawa to a puddle. He moans again, because he can’t help it. That triggers Iwaizumi’s orgasm, and Oikawa desperately tries to swallow all that Iwaizumi is giving him, shivering slightly. 

When he pulls away, his grin is smug—the kind that Iwaizumi has punched him for in the past. He doesn’t punch him this time, though. He just tucks himself back in and grips the collar of Oikawa’s shirt, hauling him down for another kiss. His hand wanders down to cup Oikawa’s crotch, but Oikawa grips his wrist, a pained look on his face. Somehow, he’d gotten off just from giving Iwa-chan head and his cock is too sensitive to touch. 

Iwaizumi looks down, looks back up at Oikawa, and the smirk that stretches his lips is far more salacious than any Oikawa has worn. He opens his mouth and says one word, and even though Oikawa can’t hear it, it’s easily read. 

_Slut._

Yeah, he was a slut—for Iwaizumi. His best friend had been the star of Oikawa’s fantasies for some time now—and his orgasms were always more powerful when Iwa-chan was in them. He wasn’t surprised that finally realising one of them had been enough to make him come without even touching himself—something he’d never done before.

He smirks back, winks. 

Iwaizumi grips his wrist and twirls him around, tugging him back against him so they can dance together. Oikawa loses himself in the music, in Iwaizumi—strong against his back. 

+

Oikawa wakes up on top of someone—probably Iwa-chan. When he manages to open his eyes, he’s not wrong, he’s just not entirely right either. He is on Iwa-chan—he’s just also on at least two other people. Iwa-chan is on at least three people himself. They’re all a tangled mess of limbs. Oikawa winces as someone digs their elbow into his ribs.

“Iwa-chan,” he hisses, finding a piece of floor to prop his hand on so he can nudge him. “Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi groans and rolls over, falls off someone. “The fuck?” he slurs, not properly awake yet. 

“Wanna go home?”

“Mm,” he agrees groggily, gingerly rising to his feet. He helps Oikawa up too, and together they pick their way across the floor of the club where Oikawa is pretty sure everyone crashed last night. He only remembered the beginning, mostly. He remembered taking shots, he remembered Iwa-chan kissing that blonde chick, he remembered the burning jealousy in the pit of his stomach. Well, that last one was nothing new.

He licks his teeth. It feels like he hasn’t brushed his teeth in days, but there’s a strange taste, like—

Oikawa stops walking suddenly. His mouth _definitely_ tastes like come. But _whose?_ He knew whose dick he _hoped_ he’d sucked last night, but if that turned out to be the truth—that would ruin everything that they were. Friends didn’t deepthroat their friend’s dicks. On the other hand, he isn’t particularly pleased about the idea of sucking a stranger’s dick either.

“Oi,” Iwaizumi’s rough voice distracts him. “You look really pale. Let’s go get coffee before we go home.”

Oikawa nods mechanically. Iwaizumi is acting normal—that means he probably doesn’t remember anything either. He can deal with this. He’d sucked his best friend’s dick but he doesn’t have to know that. He can act fine. This is fine.

Iwaizumi’s shoulder bumps his. “Hey, I know we had a rough night but once we get something to eat you’ll be fine. It was worth it though, yeah? You enjoyed your birthday?”

“Iwa-chan, when you’re nice to me it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Try to appreciate it while it lasts, at least. It won’t happen again for a while.”

“Until school?”

“Until your next birthday.”

“That’s too far!”

“Take it or leave it.”

“Iwa-chan is the worst!” Oikawa whines, clinging to Iwaizumi’s arm roughly. 

This is fine. It’s easy to fall into normal patterns. He’d sucked his best friend’s dick and neither of them remembers it. No big deal. Iwa-chan is just never allowed to find out, that’s all.

The last thought Oikawa allows himself on the subject before he loses himself in Iwaizumi’s explanation of the new menu he was designing for them is how much he regrets not being able to remember how it felt.

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on [tumblr](http://ellipted.tumblr.com/)


End file.
